


wide eyed wanderers

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Resolved Sexual Tension, Road Trips, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-06 23:18:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19072708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “Do you dream that one day your prince will come, dear Bucky?” Sam teases. “Sweep you off your feet and you can run away to a world of the unknown? Maybe have a true love’s kiss to set your heart in motion?”Bucky shakes his head and lets out a small laugh. “I do not wish that, Christ.”Sam grips the steering wheel with one hand and lets his other arm rest on the car outside the window. “Hmm. How about soulmates? You believe in that?”Bucky shrugs. “ I don’t think one person is destined to be yours. I think that people become soulmates. You know? Like, you grow together, become mature.” He lets out a sigh. “I wouldn’t really know. I’ve never been in a serious relationship, really. Dated this gal for about a year, maybe, when I was a teen, but that’s about it. Wasn’t really all about...that.”---(in which Bucky and Sam travel across the country to see Steve, and maybe find themselves closer than ever before)





	wide eyed wanderers

**Author's Note:**

> PHEW THIS WAS A FUCKING MONSTER OF A FIC TO DO!!!!
> 
> enjoy, my loves.
> 
> ALSOOOOO: the math of the hours dont add up. it just doesnt. i hate math, not good at it, so just pretend that everything is cool LMAO

A pillow smacks Sam’s face, followed by a gruff voice. “Get up, Sam.”

 

Sam opens his eyes and groans, sitting up as he rubs his face. His vision focuses on Bucky Barnes, dressed in a t-shirt and loose jeans, leans on the doorframe, arms crossed. There are dark circles under his eyes, possibly due to lack of sleep, and it makes Sam wonder if he even slept at all. Sam yawns and stretches.

 

“Why did you wake me? It’s my fuckin’ rest day.” Sam asks, unlocking his phone to check the time. It reads 7:35 AM. He’s usually up earlier for a run, but he decided to sleep in for a change. Of course, he didn’t really sleep the night prior, due to some fucked up nightmares.

 

“Old man called,” Bucky replies, his voice dry. “Wants us to come visit him.”

 

Sam groans audibly, flopping back down onto the bed. “He lives in the middle of Butt-fuck _nowhere_.”

 

“Yep,” Bucky sighs, sitting down on the edge of Sam’s bed. “That’s why we have to leave. It’s a three day trip. One night in a motel, then at Steve’s, then at another motel, probably.”

 

“Ugh,” Sam sits up on his elbows. “Did the bastard at least say _why_ he needs us to visit?”

 

Bucky shrugs and rubs his own face, letting out a huff. “I don’t know, Sam. All I know is he wants us there and that we should go. If you don’t want to go, fine, but I’m gonna go.” He stands up and stretches, an inch of skin appearing underneath the hem of his shirt as he does so. Sam’s eyes wander to the patch without meaning too.

 

“Fine,” Sam’s eyes snap back upwards to meet Bucky’s. “I’ll come with you. But I’m driving. You look like you got hit by a bus.”

 

“Thanks,” Bucky snorts.

 

Sam motions towards the door. “Now get out. I have to get changed and shower.”

 

Bucky nods and heads out of the room, before pausing and looking behind his shoulder. “I’m gonna make an omelette. You want one?”

 

Sam bites his lip, thinking for a moment, before nodding. “Yeah, actually. With cheese, please.”

 

Bucky smirks and leaves the room, and Sam heads into the bathroom and leans over the sink. His reflection stares back at him, and he inhales deeply as he rubs at a crick in his neck. His left side hurts, from when he had been blessed with a kick to it while fighting some rogue HYDRA agents. Sam lifts his shirt to check if there are still any signs of a visible injury, and sure enough, his left side has a nice, gnarly bruise the size of an apple. Scoffing, Sam pulls off his shirt and tosses it to the side. He glosses over his own figure, flexing and unflexing his muscles. He may not be blessed with the super serum that both Steve and Bucky have the fortune to have, but he still is gifted in the muscle department.

 

It’s hard, Sam thinks, to not feel a little insecure when he stands next to Bucky or Steve (not so much Steve anymore, since he’s aged). Bucky has a perfectly cut stomach, with a beautiful v-line that Sam cannot help but wonder what it would feel like to run his hand over the curvature.

 

The thought makes Sam flustered, and he moves it to the back of his mind. Fucking super soldiers and their good looks. He shakes his head and removes the rest of his clothes before turning on the shower head, moving the knob to a colder setting. He lets out an audible noise as he steps in, allowing the cool water to run against him.

 

His thoughts drift toward the trip he’s about to take. Steve, after handing Sam the shield and returning from the life that he suddenly now lived, decided to move to the middle of Wyoming (why? Sam has no clue. Steve’s always been a person for impulsive decisions). Steve owns a small ranch that _actually_ has animals. Some cows, maybe a few chickens. Definitely a horse.

 

And of course, it’s in the middle of nowhere, and an over twenty four hour drive - with Bucky.

 

It’s been almost a year since Steve had given him the shield, so he’s very used to Bucky’s presence. They’re renting a small apartment currently, two bedrooms, a bath, and a nice common area where they can watch dumb movies and have some beers. They go on missions together, busting out rogue HYDRA agents and infiltrating their plots of supposed world domination.

 

It certainly has brought the two men closer together - Sam considers Bucky as his friend and colleague, as well as his roommate. They eat together, they fight together, and they watch movies together. The problem is-

 

There’s a knock on the door. “What?” Sam calls out.

 

“Your omelette is ready, Birdie.” Bucky says through the closed door. “It’s waitin’ for you whenever you’re done wastin’ water.”

 

“Fuck off, man.” Sam says, a small smirk forming on his face. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Sam turns the knob so the water shuts off. He grabs a towel and dries himself off, sighing as he catches a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror. He pulls out the top drawer and finds his deodorant, putting it on underneath his arms. He feels his face - no need to shave yet.

 

He takes a deep breath.

 

The problem with Bucky is that he’s secretive. He doesn’t talk about anything at all. Sam will ask how he’s doing or feeling and Bucky will answer with a one word response, or just grunt. And Sam will respect that and not press any further. He’s not supposed to be a therapist - doesn’t even want to be. But it’s fine to talk about emotions and feelings every once in awhile - right?

 

And there’s a burning curiosity deep within him - wondering why the hell Bucky doesn’t sleep at nights.

 

Sam sighs again and leaves the bathroom to his room. He goes to his dresser and pulls out an Aerosmith t-shirt and a baggy pair of jeans, putting them on, and walking out of his room towards the kitchen. Bucky is already at the table, his plate empty and his face buried into his phone. Sam’s omelette is on the table opposite to Bucky, and as Sam sits down, he gestures to Bucky’s phone.

 

“Any big news we should know about?”

 

Bucky glances up for a half a second before returning to his phone. He shakes his head. “Nothing huge. I checked traffic and weather. We should be fine if we leave within the next hour.” He smirks suddenly, then puts his phone in his pocket as he stands up to grab his plate. “Although, Kim Kardashian is trendin’ again.”

 

“She’s a lawyer now, right?” Sam asks. Bucky scoffs, shrugging as he puts his dish in the sink.

 

“Fuck if I know.” He retorts, turning on the water. “I don’t really care, to be quite honest.”

 

“Hmm,” Sam smirks, taking a bite of his omelette. “Did you have any of those celebrities back in your day? The kind you’d read in the newspaper and just roll your eyes at the stupidity?”

 

Bucky shuts off the water and thinks for a moment. “I don’t know. Probably. I never really read the papers that much. That was more of Steve’s thing.” He grabs a dish towel and wipes the plate as well as his hands. “Although, I feel like today’s issues with people are a lot more dumb and irrelevant.”

 

Sam takes the final bite of his omelette and stands up, nudging Bucky away from the sink with his hip. “I can agree with that.”

 

Bucky nudges Sam in return and smirks. Sam turns on the water, gets his hands wet, and then flicks water into Bucky’s face. “Hey,” Bucky backs away, furrowing his eyebrows. Sam grins widely.

 

“You got some water on your face there, Barnes.” Sam puts his dish underneath the faucet, grabbing a sponge and cleaning it. “You should dry yourself off.”

 

“You’re a prick,” Bucky says, but he’s smiling. He grabs a paper towel and wipes his face before throwing it in the trash. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

 

“Hmm, yes,” Sam dries off the plate and puts it on the black drying rack next to the sink. “I believe Steve said it to me once. I think I gave him some Viagra as a gift.”

 

Bucky laughs - hard. He’s bent over the counter. “Fuck, I remember that.” He straightens up and tightens his voice up to give his best old Steve impression. “Sam Wilson, you goddamn prick, why would you waste your money on this!”

 

Sam shakes his head as he laughs. “Man, Steve was always busting my ass about money.”

 

“That’s cause, back in our day,” Bucky bites his lip as he smiles. “We had to save _everything._ ”

 

“Yeah yeah,” Sam waves him off. “I don’t need the whole history lesson. I learned enough about the Depression in grade school, thank you very much.”

 

“Hmm,” Bucky has a mischievous grin on his face. “Maybe in the car I’ll tell you all about what life was like durin’ the Depression.”

 

Sam groans - loudly and a bit over exaggerated. “Oh God, no. I’ll throw you out of the car.”

 

“As if,” Bucky retorts, checking his phone. “Ooh, get your stuff, I wanna leave soon. I wanna get as far as we can before we have to crash for the night in some dusty motel.”

 

“Yeah,” Sam agrees. “I still have to grab some clothes. You already packed?”

 

Bucky nods. “Yeah, I threw some things in a duffle.” He points to a medium-sized blue duffle bag next to the wall near the door.

 

“Aight. Let me just get my shit real quick. I’ll meet you in the car.”

 

Bucky nods, grabs the duffle, and leaves the apartment. Sam heads towards his room and goes into his closet, pulling out a decently sized duffle bag. They’ve been on the road a lot - especially when they were fugitives. It’s a nice travel size, and thanks to the experience, Sam knows how to make the most out of very little. He packs a t-shirt and loose pants for pajamas, and some nicer-looking clothes for when he sees Steve. Then he heads into the bathroom, grabbing a few necessary toiletries before tossing it into the bag.

 

He makes sure to take his phone charger and wallet, as well as pats his back pocket to make sure his phone is there. When all is good, Sam grabs the bag, shuts the light off in his room, takes his keys off the counter, and locks the apartment door.

 

Bucky’s leaning on the trunk of the car when Sam spots it in the garage. Smirking, he clicks the lock button twice on his keys, causing the car to let out a beep. Startled, Bucky jumps from the car, and when Sam starts laughing, he casts him a glare. Sam clicks the unlock button and Bucky opens the trunk, tossing his bag in and getting into the passenger seat. Sam puts his own bag next to Bucky’s and gets behind the wheel.

 

“You want aux?” Sam asks, and Bucky shrugs.

 

“I don’t know if you’d like my music taste.”

 

“Go ahead,” Sam hands him a cord. “Passenger always gets aux anyway.”

 

It’s brief, but Sam sees the small smile that appears on Bucky’s face. He plugs in his phone as Sam pulls out of the parking garage. “Promise you won’t laugh,” Bucky turns to look at him.

 

Sam makes a face as he turns left. “Why, what the hell are you putting on?”

 

“Just promise.”

 

“Okay,” Sam says. “I promise.”

 

Bucky clicks play, and “Love Story” by Taylor Swift comes out of the car speakers. Sam tightens his lips and smiles, glancing over at Bucky, who narrows his eyes. “You said you wouldn’t laugh.”

 

“I’m not laughing. In fact,” Sam turns the volume up and lowers the windows. “I happen to love Taylor Swift.” He flashes a grin towards Bucky, who immediately returns it and faces back to the front.

 

They sing it, or belt it, rather. And throughout it, Sam sneaks a couple of glances over to Bucky. He is moving around in his seat, dancing along to the song as he sings. And Sam’s heart does that weird thing where it skips a beat while watching him.

 

Bucky’s an enigma, and for some odd reason, it’s always so amazing to see the man smile and laugh. Sam may not admit it, but he enjoys that damn smile. And when he sees it, it sends an electrical feeling straight down to the pits of his stomach. Butterflies aren’t even the best word to describe it - it’s more than just fluttering. It’s his stomach churning - aching to see more - wanting more.

 

Sam flushes, pushing those thoughts away. He isn’t going to let himself think about his friend like this while on a road trip with him. Especially a three day one.

 

And he _isn’t_ pining. No, he’s just...tired. And also probably feels this way due to lack of sex recently. His last hook up was at least two years ago - it’s hard to shack up when you’re on the run every day. And he hadn’t even thought about bringing someone home to the apartment, out of fear for the awkwardness between him and Bucky. And Bucky’s just a _really_ attractive dude. Sam’s got eyes, you know.

 

Sam glances at Bucky after the song ends, and he wonders how long it has been for Bucky. Bucky never brought anyone back to the apartment either, but Sam doesn’t really know for certain if he’s actually had sex in this century.

 

Sam quickly changes his thoughts before things start going down south.

 

The song afterwards is another Taylor Swift song, but Sam isn’t really familiar with it, so he turns down the volume. “You really like your Swift, huh?” He asks Bucky.

 

Bucky shrugs but nods. “I like her voice. ‘Love Story’ is my favorite of hers, though.”

 

“You know, I thought of you as more of a punk rock kinda guy.”

 

Bucky shrugs again. “I don’t really have a ‘taste,’ I guess. I just listen to songs and save the ones I like. I just happen to like a lot of Taylor Swift’s songs.” He takes a deep breath and states out the window. “‘Love Story’ is my favorite because I love the actual melody. I don’t know, it’s catchy and really cute.”

 

“Aw,” Sam grins. “You’re a romantic.”

 

Bucky narrows his eyes. “I am so _not.”_

 

“Do you dream that one day your prince will come, dear Bucky?” Sam teases. “Sweep you off your feet and you can run away to a world of the unknown? Maybe have a true love’s kiss to set your heart in motion?”

 

Bucky shakes his head and lets out a small laugh. “I do not wish that, Christ.”

 

Sam grips the steering wheel with one hand and lets his other arm rest on the car outside the window. “Hmm. How about soulmates? You believe in that?”

 

Bucky shrugs. “ I don’t think one person is _destined_ to be yours. I think that people become soulmates. You know? Like, you grow together, become mature.” He lets out a sigh. “I wouldn’t really know. I’ve never been in a serious relationship, really. Dated this gal for about a year, maybe, when I was a teen, but that’s about it. Wasn’t really all about...that.”

 

“That’s a real sweet way to put the whole soulmates thing into perspective,” Sam comments. “And I feel you on the serious relationship thing. I dated a girl for two years. Julia. She was real pretty and smart.” Sam grimaces a bit. “I was just a bit too much of a stupid kid, she didn’t really like that.”

 

“Oh, Christ,” Bucky leans back in his seat and smirks. “The fuck did you do?”

 

“Eh,” Sam shrugs. “Decided to join the military.”

 

Bucky lets out a dry laugh. “You can say that again.” He shakes his head. “Except I didn’t _decide._ Was drafted, unfortunately.”

 

Sam nods along. “Yeah, that fuckin’ sucks.”

 

Bucky scoffs as he looks at Sam. “Steve wanted to join the military so badly. He lied on his applications, doing everythin’ he could to just join. It was hard for him, I mean, he was a frail, asthmatic, ninety pound punk.” He shakes his head. “Real dumbass, that guy.”

 

“Yeah, but I mean, he really bulked up in the military,” Sam jokes. “So I guess he wins in the end.”

 

“I mean...I did too,” Bucky says, sort of softly. “In a different way, at least.”

 

Sam feels his heart sink. “I’m sorry, maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

 

“No,” Bucky replies quickly. “You’re alright. Sometimes I just wonder what my life would have been like if I wasn’t drafted, you know? Maybe I’d have a normal life. Both my arms. Never once involved with HYDRA…” He sighs. “I guess there really is no point dwellin’ on that shit, right?”

 

Sam nods, biting his lip. He switches his grip on the wheel and uses his other arm to gently pat Bucky on the shoulder. He’s hitting the metal arm, but it gets his point across. “My Ma always told me to look forward into the future, and never look back towards the past.”

 

“‘Cause we can’t change it.”

 

Sam scoffs. “Well, guess Steve went and defied _that_ saying.”

 

Bucky lets out a small chuckle. “Can’t say I blame him. It’s not everyday you get an opportunity to live your life the way you always wanted to - you know, a second chance.” He smiles softly. “Christ knows I would have done a similar thing.”

 

There’s a brief silence as Bucky’s words hang in the air.

 

Sam breaks it with a sigh. “You know, I don’t hate him for what he did. I don’t dislike him in the slightest. It just...it hurt, you know? Still does, kinda. I mean, my best friend went back without telling me and lived an entirely new life.” He takes a deep breath and exhales. “Sometimes I feel like I don’t even know him anymore.” He turns to look at Bucky. “Don’t you feel the same way sometimes?”

 

Bucky shrugs. “Maybe I do,” his voice teeters on the edge of uncertainty. “I mean, yeah, it sucked. I was just fresh outta cyro, fought this big battle, got dusted for five years, and I return for a day and then he’s gone again. It’s like we never really got an opportunity to catch up.” He stares at Sam. “But then again, I really am not the Bucky he used to know. And I was always afraid of him being disappointed in that. I avoided him for that reason.” His gaze falls back in front of him, watching the overhead signs of the highway blow past them. “I’m glad he got to go back, though. It’s nice to see him happy.’

 

“I can’t believe he owns a fuckin’ ranch in the middle of fuckin’ Wyoming.” Sam shakes his head and laughs. “I mean, _Wyoming?_ Of _all places?_ ”

 

“I have no clue why he did that.” Bucky admits, a small laugh escaping his throat.

 

“Well,” Sam switches lanes. “Yeehaw, I guess.”

 

Bucky smiles before turning to look out his window.

 

* * *

 

Five hours pass before Sam pulls into the first restaurant he sees. It’s a Burger King, but he's starving and he needs to pee. He doesn’t care if it’s at a fast food joint. He parks the car near the entrance and stretches before barreling through the doors and into the bathroom. Bucky waits near it, and when Sam comes out, he goes as well.

 

Waiting in line, Sam grimaces at the menu. He’s never been too keen on fast food (his mother's cooking was all he ever needed). But, they might as well get something to eat while they’re here. He decides do go with a classic Whopper and some fries, and when Bucky returns to join him in line, he asks what he wants.

 

“Me?” Bucky looks at the menu. “Damn, I dunno. Maybe some chicken nuggets.”

 

“You want fries?” Sam asks, pulling out his wallet.

 

“Sure, yeah,” Bucky notices Sam’s movement. “Woah, hey, I can pay for myself.”

 

“Relax,” Sam smirks. “I’ll cover this. It’s no biggie. Find us a place to sit.”

 

Bucky opens his mouth to argue, but the cashier already calls out “next!” and Sam moves up to order. He leaves to find a table.

 

“Yeah, hi, um, can I have one Whopper, two large sodas, and ten piece chicken nuggets please? Oh, and a large set of fries.”

 

“Okay,” the young lady says. “Your total is $12.76.”

 

Sam hands her a twenty and waits for the change. He glances across the restaurant, and spots Bucky sitting at a booth near a window, typing on his phone. Sam smirks at the sight.

 

The cashier hands him his change and receipt. “Your order number is 179. Please wait over there.”

 

It only takes about five minutes before his number is called. He brings the food over to the table where Bucky is sitting and slides it across. “Here,” Sam gives him one of the cups. “Get yourself something from the drinks thing. I’ll get us some ketchup.”

 

“Thanks,” Bucky smiles, and he takes the cup. Sam goes with him and grabs some ketchup packets before filling up his own cup with a Dr. Pepper.

 

When they sit back down, Bucky asks how much his meal costs. Sam shakes his head.

 

“Stop it, I covered for you. My treat.”

 

“Come on, Sam,” Bucky pleads. “Let me pay for my own damn meal.”

 

“Nope,” Sam grins. “I’m being nice. I get nice points.”

 

“Ugh,” Bucky scoffs. “I hate you.”

 

“After I just bought you food?” Sam arches an eyebrow as he teases him. “How very rude of you!”

 

Bucky shoots him a glare and takes a chicken nugget. He looks at the big stack of fries. “That for both of us?”

 

“Yeah, figured we’d share. That okay?”

 

Bucky nods and takes a handful of fries. “Do you know how much longer we have to go? Until we get to Steve’s.”

 

Sam shrugs as he wipes his mouth. “God, I dunno. We’ve been on the road for about five hours. I would say we still have twenty one hours or so to go before we get to Wyoming. We can probably continue driving until we get to Iowa, and then we can find a place there to stay for the night.”

 

Bucky nods. “Sounds good. You want me to drive for a bit?”

 

“Sure,” Sam stretches and yawns. “I could use a bit of a nap.”

 

“Alright,” Bucky says. He dips three fries in ketchup and stuffs them into his mouth.

 

Sam should not be finding the way Bucky eats endearing, but he does. He’s careful - cautious. He doesn’t make a mess out of himself.

 

And when he pictures Bucky eating at a fancy restaurant across from him, Sam is sure to make that thought go away.

 

The two finish their food, and Bucky asks for a bag to put the fries in for the ride. He then hands the bag over to Sam for him to hold.

 

“I don’t want this, man.”

 

“You have to.” Bucky replies, walking towards the car. “I’m drivin’ and I can’t hold that in my lap.”

 

“Ugh,” Sam groans as he gets into the passenger seat. He places the bag of fries in between him and the cupholders. “I’m going to sleep. You know where you are going?”

 

Bucky nods as he starts up the car. “Yeah. No worries, man.”

 

Sam smiles softly, before turning his head to look out the window. He leans against the back of the carseat and watches as cars breeze past as Bucky pulls back onto the highway. A Queen song starts playing as he drifts off.

 

* * *

 

Thirteen hours, three rest stops (plus gas), and a restaurant later, the two men pull up in front of Speedy Motel. Sam can already tell it looks seedy and a bit suspicious, but it’s about 11:30 at night and he’s exhausted. Bucky looks like he’s about to drop as well. They exit the car, grab their stuff, and head towards the building where the receptionist is.

 

Sam hands over his card. “Room with two beds, please.”

 

The man, an older guy with a mustache, shakes his head. “Only got single bed rooms left. Sorry, boys.”

 

Sam glances over his shoulder to Bucky. Bucky nods and motions with his hand to just get the room. With a sigh, Sam accepts it, and the man hands them a key. With a curt “thank you,” the two head over to their room, traveling across the parking lot.

 

“Of course there’s only one bed. That’s cliché as fuck,” Sam complains.

 

Bucky shrugs. “It’s not a big deal. We both were at war, we had to sleep in weird places close to other men. Nothin’ we both aren’t used too.”

 

Sam grumbles in agreement as he unlocks the door. Sam throws his stuff down on the floor near the left side of the bed, while Bucky moves to the other side. “You mind if I take bathroom first?” Sam asks.

 

“Go ahead,” Bucky waves him off.

 

Sam grabs his toiletries and pajamas and heads into the bathroom. His heart is pounding in his chest.

 

He has to sleep next to Bucky. In the same bed.

 

He sucks in a breath and exhales as he rubs his face. Sam’s a grown man - he can handle this. Bucky’s just another dude. He’s slept next to other dudes before.

 

“Fuckin’ hell, Wilson,” he whispers to himself quietly. “You’re a goddamn mess.”

 

Sighing, he brushes his teeth and changes into his pajamas. He take one last look in the mirror, a couple of deep breaths, and leaves the bathroom. Bucky is perched on the bed, leaning against the headboard and a pillow behind him to prop him up. He’s reading something.

 

“What are you reading?”

 

Bucky snaps his head up. He glances back down at the book in his hands before slowly shifting his gaze back towards Sam. “The Bible.”

 

Sam stops, placing a hand on his waist and arching an eyebrow. “You’re reading...the Bible?”

 

Bucky shrugs as he closes the book and places it back in the nightstand drawer. He stands up and stretches. “It was in the drawer, you know, and I was kind of bored. You were takin’ a little longer in the bathroom than a normal person would.” Sam glares at him. Bucky’s mouth tilts into a smirk as he continues. “Also, sometimes, people write in them.”

 

“Well,” Sam smirks. “Did someone write in that one?”

 

“Nope, unfortunately. But,” he turns around and picks up a pen that was on the bed. “I did.”

 

Sam pretends to be shocked and gasps out loud. “My goodness, you vandalized the Holy Book?”

 

“Oh, stop it,” Bucky nudges past him. “I’ll be out in a minute. I don’t take long, unlike you.”

 

Sam rolls his eyes at the comment but ignores it, instead watching Bucky disappear into the bathroom. His eyes then trail towards the bed and he lets out a small groan as he walks over to the other side and climbs into the bed. He rolls over onto his side to ensure he’d be facing away from Bucky when he gets into the bed.

 

Eventually, the light turns off and Sam feels the other side of the bed sink down as Bucky crawls into it. Sam has to keep himself from audibly inhaling. He feels a tension between them - and is unable to properly identify it. And being honest, Sam’s not even sure if Bucky has a similar feeling.

 

“G’night, Sam,” Bucky says.

 

“Night,” Sam replies. He hears Bucky shift to his side, moving the blanket a little bit with him. Sam closes his eyes and tries not to think about him.

 

Of course, that never works.

 

It’s been an hour, at least, and Sam is still wide awake, laying on his right side. He keeps hearing Bucky shift, unable to properly get comfortable. Sam hasn’t moved from his position, not really wanting to turn around.

 

“Can’t sleep either, can ya?” Bucky’s voice suddenly speaks out into the dark room.

 

Well, no use pretending now.

 

Sam shifts over onto his back, turning his head to look at Bucky. Bucky is on his right side facing him, his hair messily falling into his face and spread out all over the pillow. Sam sighs and he nods. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

 

“Your breathin’ was irregular,” Bucky answers. “But I also know you don’t exactly sleep at night.”

 

“Ha,” Sam snorts. “I could say the same thing about you, Mr. Dark Circles.”

 

“Yeah, I don’t sleep.” Bucky pushes his hair out of his face. “At least, not much anyway. Sometimes I pass out, of course, but then I just wake up early.”

 

“Well, that can’t be healthy,” Sam mutters. “Do you...not like to sleep so you choose not to? Or is it because you can’t sleep?”

 

Bucky bites his lip and moves onto his back as he ponders the question. “Hmm. Probably a bit of both.” He sighs audibly. “What about you?”

 

“Usually, I do sleep.” Sam admits, turning his face up towards the ceiling. “But then I’ll get these gruesome nightmares, and when I wake, there’s no way in hell I’m falling back asleep - unless I somehow get it off my mind.”

 

“Oh?” Bucky raises his eyebrows. “And what does that usually consist of?”

 

Sam turns to look at Bucky. “What?”

 

Bucky stares back at him. “What does it take to get your nightmare off of your mind?”

 

Sam inhales deeply as he presses his lips together. “Um, usually watch TV. Like old shows, or maybe a funny movie. There’s also the occasional jerk-off, that can help sometimes. But mostly the movies and shows.”

 

“Ha,” Bucky lets out a laugh. “Christ, I remember the ol’ jerk-off technique. We used to do that in the army, you know? When we’d be laying on concrete or dirt or whatever, unable to sleep. We would all just...jerk each other off. Close our eyes, pretend everyone was a bunch of gals, well, at least that’s what the other boys did. We’d do it until all of us came, and that was how we’d fall asleep - all tuckered out.”

 

Sam sucks in his breath. “We did that too, actually.”

 

“Unfortunate, really,” Bucky says. “That I think that was the last time I ever had a hand on my dick that wasn’t my own.”

 

Sam’s eyes widen. “You mean to tell me that you’ve really never had sex since the ‘40s?”

 

“Yep,” Bucky enunciates the ‘p.’ “Like I said, unfortunate. But it’s not like I’ve been actively lookin’ to get action. I’ve had plenty of opportunities, just never took ‘em.”

 

“I feel that,” Sam responds. “The last time I got laid was maybe two years ago.”

 

Bucky hums. “I was always expectin’ you to come home with someone, but you never did. I just assumed you fucked at their place.”

 

Sam shakes his head. “Nah, I haven’t fucked a soul in two years.”

 

“Well,” Bucky says. “That’s kinda funny.”

 

“Says you.”

 

Bucky laughs - although it sounds a bit dry. Then he closes his mouth for a few minutes, pondering something.

 

“You wanna jerk each other off?” He asks, his words monotonous.

 

Sam suddenly sits up on the bed, shocked by what he had just heard. “Say what now?”

 

“You heard me,” Bucky sits up as well. “We both can’t sleep, both have jerked off other people before, both haven’t gotten any action other then our own hand for a long time.” He shrugs, as it it means nothing. “We’re friends. We help each other out. That’s all it is.”

 

Sam stares at him, his own dick giving off a nice twitch in his pants. Is Bucky really suggesting this? Is he dreaming?

 

“We don’t have to,” Bucky says after Sam doesn’t respond. “Was just a suggestion.”

 

“Okay,” Sam says before he can stop himself. “Yeah, sure, why not. Just...dudes helping out dudes, I guess.”

 

“Um, okay,” Bucky scratches at his chin. His figure is barely visible in the dark room, but Sam’s eyes have adjusted enough to see a bit of his outline and face. “Take off your pants. We can stay under the covers so it’s less...intimate.”

 

Sam inhales deeply and nods. “Yeah, sounds good.” He reaches under the covers and pulls down his pajama pants and boxers. He’s sporting a semi already, and his heart is pounding ferociously in his chest.

 

Friends help each other out. That’s what they’re doing. They’re helping each other fall asleep. It works, it’s fine.

 

Sam sees Bucky shift out of the corner of his eye, tossing his own pants onto the floor. He turns his head to look back at Sam. “You ready?”

 

“Yeah,” Sam breathes. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

 

“And you’re sure you want to do this?” Bucky asks, tilting his head a little bit. “Because if not, that’s fine, we just never speak of this moment.”

 

“It’s fine,” Sam says, and he scooches closer to Bucky until his side is touching his. “It’s all fine. I want to do this.”

 

“Alright,” Bucky drawls. His right hand (the flesh one) gently touches Sam’s chest. He has his shirt on still, but Sam can feel the heat radiating from Bucky’s palm. The hand slides down further, just ghosting over the bruise from the other day, until it completely submerges underneath the covers.

 

Then it finds Sam, and his breath hitches as Bucky wraps around him.

 

“You good?” Bucky asks. Sam nods rapidly.

 

“Yes,” he says. “Oh, God, yes.”

 

Sam then repeats what Bucky does, only he doesn’t have his shirt on, so Sam’s hand is touching the skin of Bucky’s chest. He can feel Bucky’s heart rate - it’s elevated. He slowly slides his hand lower until his hand just brushes Bucky’s cock. Bucky gasps at the contact, and this causes him to lightly squeeze Sam. A low groan escapes Sam’s throat as he wraps his hand around Bucky’s hardening dick. It’s hot - burning hot, to the touch, and Sam’s mouth waters. Bucky’s thick too, and deep in the back of his mind, he wishes he could see it. And even further into the depths of his mind - he wishes he could put his mouth on it.

 

“Fuck,” Bucky breathes. His head leans against the headboard, his gaze up towards the ceiling. Sam’s is the same. “Let’s move.”

 

Sam slides his hand up and down Bucky’s shaft as he does similar to him. It’s amazing how fantastic it actually feels, and how utterly pleasing it is to hear Bucky’s moans. Sam’s fully hard now, as Bucky slides his hand all the way to his head and uses his thumb to lightly tease the tip. It feels incredible, and Sam curses and moves his hand faster. The sounds Bucky is making is going straight to Sam’s own cock and fuck - if his deep moans aren’t the hottest damn thing in the world.

 

Sam moves his hand a tad faster, using his thumb to spread pre-come along the shaft of Bucky’s cock. A low rumble catches in Bucky’s throat. “Fuck, sweetheart, keep goin’.”

 

 _Sweetheart._ It’s incredible how such a meaningless word can cause such a reaction. Sam lets out a moan and his hips arch upward for a moment. Bucky’s own hand is teasing, switching speeds like a blink of an eye, and Sam is _living_ for it.

 

“Bucky,” Sam’s breath catches in his throat. “God…”

 

“I know,” Bucky says, his hand once again hanging around the head of Sam’s cock, thumb teasing the slit ever so slightly. Sam shudders at the feeling, an electric shock barreling straight through him. “Your hand feels so fuckin’ good, Sam.”

 

Sam lightly squeezes Bucky in response. “Same...for you.”

 

Bucky just moans - and fuck - he wants to hear more.

 

Sam decides to do something a tad risky, but he knows what he likes. He takes his hand off of Bucky’s dick and brings it up to his own mouth. In an instant, he spits on it, and then brings it back down to Bucky’s cock.

 

And Bucky’s reaction? A string of curses, and within a few more pumps, he’s gone, spilling all over Sam’s hand.

 

And with Bucky’s moans and jerking Sam off like his life depends on it, it doesn’t take much longer until Sam comes as well, vocal and loud. His head is cloudy and he feels as though he is seeing stars.

 

“Fuck,” is all Bucky musters. Sam nods in agreement.

 

“Fuck.”

 

“That was…” Bucky turns to look at Sam. Sam can just barely see the flustered face of the man opposite of him. “Great. Yeah. Thanks.”

 

“Yeah,” Sam inhales sharply. “We should, uh, probably clean up. Could you uh…” Sam cocks his head towards the bathroom. “Could you grab a towel? Maybe dampen it a bit so we don’t fall asleep covered in dry jizz?”

 

“Yeah,” Bucky clears his throat as he stands up and walks towards the bathroom, picking up his pants along the way. Sam watches him go, before looking away.

 

That happened. That had just happened, and Sam has _no idea_ what to do next. It was fantastic, of course - _Bucky_ had just given him one of the best handjobs of his fucking _life._ And now - Sam sits up against the bed, unsure of what is to come. Will it be awkward? It wasn’t awkward with the people in his squad, way back in his war days.

 

He’s interrupted when a wet towel is flung at his face. “Bullseye!” Bucky exclaims, and when Sam pulls the towel off his face, he can make out Bucky’s smirk. His pants are back on, as well.

 

“Ha ha,” Sam says, and he lifts up the covers and wipes himself down as best as he can, as well as wipes down the sheets and blankets. He tosses the towel back at Bucky. “Thank you.”

 

“No problem,” Bucky replies, and he throws the towel onto the floor in the bathroom before returning to the bed. Sam takes the time to locate his own pants and slides them back on.

 

He turns back on his right side. His mind wants to race - wants to think about the event that occured - but his body is screaming at him to sleep. He’s tired, and the orgasm he just had really sent him over the edge to exhaustion.

 

“Goodnight, Sam.” Bucky says on the other side of the bed.

 

“Night, man.” Sam replies, and he closes his eyes.

 

It doesn’t take that long for him to fall asleep.

 

* * *

 

When Sam’s alarm goes off in the morning, he lets out a small groan as he stumbles to shut it off without fully opening his eyes. This, of course, leads to his phone falling off of the nightstand and onto the floor, which results in yet another groan out of Sam. Defeated, he sits up and picks up his phone, shutting off the alarm. His eyes blink into focus, and he sees Bucky’s sleeping figure, so deeply passed out that he had slept through the alarm. Not having the heart to wake him just yet, Sam decides to take a shower. He grabs some clothes out of his duffle bag and heads into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

 

The towel from the previous night lies on the floor, like an evidence to a crime scene. Memories flood back into Sam’s mind - the way Bucky’s hand felt, the sounds of his moans, the way Bucky came and the way his breath hitched.

 

Sam feels his dick begin to take interest, and decides to push those thoughts away again. He turns on the shower, setting it to a cold setting, strips, and steps in.

 

As he washes himself, he wonders if Bucky had gone to sleep shortly after he did. The whole...situation certainly helped with his sleep last night - he fell asleep faster than he had in awhile. It really was amazing.

 

Sam’s cock twitches again. He glares at it. “No,” he says softly. “Stop it.”

 

It doesn’t listen, so Sam stays under the cold spray, willing it to go away.

 

It takes about ten minutes, then Sam finishes washing up and turns the shower off. He opens the curtain and steps out, grabbing another towel and drying himself off. This time, he refuses to look in the mirror, and he cuts straight to putting his clothes on and brushing his teeth while staring at the sink. He spits out the toothpaste, turns on and off the faucet, and exits the bathroom.

 

When he opens the door, he sees Bucky sitting up on the bed. “Good morning,” Sam greets. Bucky looks up at him and smiles.

 

“Mornin’,” Bucky does a small wave and stands up, and Sam tries not to stare at the v-line at Bucky’s hips. “Fun fact,” Bucky begins, grabbing some clothes and walking towards the bathroom. “I actually slept last night.”

 

“Oh?” Sam smirks to hide his pounding heart. “Did you?”

 

“Yep. Passed the fuck out.” As he passes by Sam, he lays a metal hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Thank you, by the way. For doin’ that.”

 

“No problem, dude,” Sam replies. “Just- bros helpin’ each other out. That’s what we do.”

 

The corner of Bucky’s mouth tilt upwards into a smile. “Yup,” he squeezes Sam’s shoulder. “Thanks, pal.” He leaves to go into the bathroom.

 

Sam lets out a sigh and rubs the back of his neck. He pulls out his phone and dials a familiar number. It rings about three times before a voice answers. _“Hello?”_

 

“Steve, hey.”

 

 _“Sam, hi.”_ Steve’s voice sounds shaky over the phone. The lovely perks of being old. _“What’s up, is something wrong?”_

 

“Nah, just called to tell you that we spent the night at a motel. We’ll be back on the road soon. Should be there by this afternoon.”

 

_“Sounds good, Sam. I’ll be waiting.”_

 

“Alright, see you soon,” Sam says.

 

_“Bye.”_

 

Sam hangs up and sits down on the bed. He scrolls through various social media apps. First is twitter - checking out the trends. Nothing special: election news, sports games, and a dance trend. He checks his email - nothing important.

 

Bucky steps out of the bathroom, fully dressed, but drying off his hair with a towel. “You ready to go?”

 

Sam shoots him an odd look. “You took a fast shower.”

 

“I’m eager to get back on the road,” Bucky states. He tosses the towel onto the floor (right on top of the _other_ towel) and runs his hands through his hair, messing it up even more. “So, let’s get goin’.”

 

Sam snorts. “You’re not going to brush your hair?”

 

“No,” Bucky says. “Not necessary. Now get your shit and let’s get a move on. I’ll drive.” He grabs the keys (both motel and car) and grabs his bag.

 

San sighs, but grabs his own stuff and follows Bucky out the door.

 

* * *

 

Bucky had been driving for the past three hours before he asks how much longer the two had before Wyoming. Sam pulls out his phone and checks.

 

“We have about 9 hours to go,” he answers.

 

Bucky lets out a groan. “God, Steve, why’d ya have to live so damn far away?” He shakes his head. “I can drive for another hour, then you think you’d be up to takin’ the wheel?”

 

“Yeah,” Sam says. “No problem, man. I can drive.”

 

Bucky takes his eyes off the road for a brief moment to look at Sam. He sighs as he looks back on the highway. “You know, Sam, I appreciate your ability to not make things awkward.”

 

Sam arches an eyebrow as he stares at Bucky. “What? What do you mean?”

 

“I mean,” Bucky shrugs his shoulders. “I was really worried that after last night our...friendship would be a little weird.”

 

“Bucky,” Sam laughs. “Our friendship has _always_ been a little weird.”

 

“Okay, _yes.”_ Bucky can’t help but smile. “I mean you don’t seem to be avoidin’ me, which in turn is pretty nice.”

 

Now it’s Sam’s turn to smile. “Nah, I wouldn’t be avoiding you after something like that.” He rubs the back of his head. “Like you said, Bucky, we were helping each other out. There really isn’t anything wrong with that - well, not that there’s anything wrong with jerkin’ it for fun, but you know what I mean. It worked out, so, uh, hey, kudos to us, I guess.”

 

“Yeah,” Bucky coughs. “It did work.” There’s a small silence that falls between them. “Is this goin’ to be one of those things that we don’t bring up again?”

 

Sam frowns. “Uh, well, I don’t see any other reason for bringing it up again.”

 

And if Bucky keeps bringing it up, Sam’s going to have an _incredibly_ awkward stiffy in the car.

 

“Hmm, okay.” Bucky switches into the left lane to pass someone. “We’re not tellin’ Steve.”

 

Sam stiffens. “Why in the absolute _hell_ would we ever tell _Steve?”_

 

Bucky shrugs. “Man, I don’t know. Steve and I used to tell eachother everythin’ back in the day. It was just somethin’ we did. Ya know, best friends type of crap. I thought maybe you and Steve had shared a similar relationship.”

 

Sam sits on that thought. It’s true - Steve and Sam used to share a lot of things. Sam’s only had that one hook-up while on the run, and he definitely told Steve about it, and Steve definitely made sure to share the grimy details of what happened with him and Sharon (much to Sam’s own displeasure). “You’re right,” he says, after about a minute. “I did share a lot with Steve.”

 

Bucky smirks, probably from the pleasure of being right. “So let’s just form this mutual agreement to not tell Steve.”

 

“It’s not like we fucked, anyway.” Sam states. “There would be no reason for him to know. If we had done some other pretty spiced up things, maybe there would be a motive to tell him. But it was nothing big, anyway.”

 

Sam likes to reassure himself that it really was nothing. His brain, heart, and dick all scream otherwise.

 

“Yeah, you’re right.” Bucky replies, eyes staring straight at the road. “It was nothin’.”

 

* * *

 

Sam’s pulls into a gas station to get gas. As he does so, Bucky leaves the car, mumbling on about having to take a piss. Sam watches him go into the little Mini Market that sits near the station.

 

He sighs to himself, punching in the numbers and putting in the nozzle. It’s been awhile (a couple of hours at least) since Sam and Bucky spoke about their... _incident_ … that occurred the night prior. And it’s not like they are ever going to talk about it again - Sam himself had stated that there is no need.

 

And it’s not that he _wants_ to talk about it - it’s just-

 

Sam sighs again. He curses Bucky and his good looks and his ability to give unbelievable handjobs.

 

“You need to pee?” Bucky shouts over to him, pointing back towards the Mini-Mart as he exits it. “I can take over.”

 

“Yeah,” Sam nods, and let’s go of the nozzle as Bucky grabs it.

 

The bathroom in the Mini-Mart is exactly how anyone would picture a gas station bathroom. The walls that used to be white tile are covered in gross stains, the toilet seat looking like a recreational center for various diseases, and the mirror is slightly cracked. Revolting.

 

Sam relieves himself, washes his hands as _best_ as he can, and leaves. The shop owner gives him a brief stare down as he travels down the aisles and leaves without purchasing anything, and when he returns to the car, Bucky is already in the driver’s seat - typing on his phone. Sam opens the door and gets into the passenger seat, letting out a sigh of relief.

 

“I know right? Fuckin’ gross ass bathroom.” Bucky states as he turns the car back on.

 

Sam nods. “I thought I was gonna catch some disease.” He sucks in his breath, “We have maybe three to four hours left. You gonna drive the rest of the way?”

 

“Yeah,” Bucky says, then he points to Sam’s feet. “Look in that bag, I got us some granola bars to pull us over ‘till we get to the Elder’s.’

 

Sam snorts at the name. “Don’t call him that, you make it sound like he’s an old, wise sage that’s going to help us with our quest.” He pulls out one of the granola bars. “And Steve is anything but.”

 

“Well, he’s old.” Bucky retorts, smiling. He pulls back onto the highway, “Maybe not that wise. Definitely not a sage.”

 

Sam snickers in amusement. He grabs the cord for music. “You mind?”

 

Bucky waves a hand in dismissal. “Passenger gets aux. I believe a man told me that once.”

 

Sam grins and puts on “Somebody to Love” by Queen.

 

* * *

 

As the car makes its way up the dirt driveway, Sam takes the time to indulge in his surroundings. There’s a fence encasing the property, and Sam notices a small red barn near the house. The house is pure white - a little worn down, but not too shabby. The shudders are painted a dull green and on the porch sits two chairs - one of the chairs is occupied by an older man.

 

As Bucky parks the car and the two exit, the older man stands up and flashes a grin that Sam recognizes all too well. “Buck, Sam, thank you so much.”

 

“Steve,” Sam smiles and hugs him. “How are you, old man?”

 

“Just fine,” Steve responds. He turns to Bucky and hugs him as well. “Bucky, always great to see you.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, Punk,” Bucky pats his back. “Let me grab our stuff.”

 

“Aight,” Sam grins at Steve. “You gonna give us the grand tour? I’ve only seen _so much_ from the very few pictures you’ve sent us.”

 

“Yeah,” Bucky replies, opening the trunk and slinging both duffle bags over his shoulder. “Let’s see this place.”

 

“Come this way,” Steve beckons the two to follow him. “This here is the living room. I’m not completely old fashioned. I’ve got a nice, large T.V, ‘course that’s mainly for the grandkids when they come to visit.” He smiles softly and points at two pictures of children on the mantle underneath the T.V. “The boy on the right is Michael. Girl on the left is Sandy. They are my only two grandchildren.”

 

Bucky’s lips tilt upwards into a small smile. “And _your_ kids?”

 

“Ah,” Steve grabs a picture frame from the coffee table. “Here.”

 

Sam takes it carefully, and studies it. It’s a picture of Steve, Peggy, and three teenage girls. The house in the background is the same - just a slightly younger version. The photo must have been at some point in the 70s or 80s. He gives the photo to Bucky, who takes a glance before looking up at Steve.

 

Steve grins - a mischievous one. “I never told you their names, did I?”

 

Both men shake their heads.

 

“Right,” Steve takes the photo and places it back on the table. “Samantha, Jamie...and Natasha.”

 

It takes a moment to set in, and when it does, both Sam and Bucky turn to one another.

 

“Man,” Sam shakes his head, unable to stop the tightness in his throat. “You’re gonna make me cry real tears.” He wraps his arms around Steve. “You fuckin’ old man.”

 

“You just-” Bucky takes a deep breath. Sam can tell he’s trying not to show emotion. “You just really went and named your children after us, huh?”

 

“Of course,” Steve says - his voice rough with age and some emotion. “I may have chosen a new life, but I never forgot the people who changed it the most.”

 

“Punk-ass fuckin-” Bucky shakes his head and goes in for a hug. “C’mere. Christ.”

 

“So,” Steve smiles warmly as he briefly accepts the hug. “Let’s continue the tour, shall we?”

 

Steve leads them through the kitchen - somewhat small, painted a nice tan color with wooden flooring. There are stairs just outside of the kitchen that leads to some guest bedrooms. “I knew I was gonna grow old one day in this house,” Steve begins. “So I made sure the master bedroom is on the ground floor. You both have separate rooms upstairs - I’m sure you’ll be able to find it. And I _know_ how you two would feel about sharing a room.”

 

Sam and Bucky share a glance unbeknownst to Steve. It’s brief, quick, and Sam swears his heart rate increases tenfold.

 

Steve moves on to the next topic. “That door in the kitchen leads to the barn. Inside the barn, there’s my chicken coop and the stable. The cow and horse typically stay outside in the warmer months, but that’s also where they stay when it’s colder.” He turns his head and sees Bucky giving him a smirk. “Oh, I know, Steve has animals. Don’t look at me like you didn’t have goats while staying in Wakanda.”

 

Bucky laughs and holds his hands up in defense. “Hey, I didn’t say nothin’.”

 

“It’s a real nice place, Steve.” Sam says, and he pats Steve’s shoulder. A smile flashes over Steve’s face before faltering, and he beckons for Sam and Bucky to follow him back into the living room, where he sits in his old chair and gestures for the two to sit across from him on the white couch.

 

“You’re probably wondering why I asked you to come.” Steve sighs, his tone more somber than before. “It’s just...I don’t think I’ll be around much longer.”

 

Sam’s heart sinks, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Bucky cover his mouth.

 

“And, well, I really wanted to see you two.” Steve continues, his voice weary, “It’s a long drive, and I just haven’t seen you in forever - it feels like.” He smiles bleakley. “I just wanted the three of us to be together. I missed you.”

 

“Steve…” Sam smiles softly. “We miss you too.”

 

Bucky turns to Sam suddenly, his eyebrows furrowing. “And _you_ almost didn’t come.”

 

“Hey,” Sam snaps. “I came, so why does it matter now?”

 

“Because-”

 

“Enough, you two.” Steve shakes his head, but it’s obvious that there’s amusement in his annoyance. “Somehow, I don’t know how you managed to drive here - with just the two of you.” He inhales sharply, smiling. “Look, I don’t want you to feel down this whole time. I know I just laid down some pretty heavy stuff. But I want us to focus on good things. I have a whole life to tell you guys about, and I sure would love to hear about Sam’s journey with the shield and how Buck is holding up.”

 

Sam nods, flashing a small grin. “Of course, Steve. What do you want to know?”

 

Steve leans back in his chair, a glimmer in his eyes. “Everything.”

 

* * *

 

Sam sits outside on the porch, looking up into the sky. The time on his phone reads 1:53 in the morning. He’s got a glass of water next to him on the pale wood.

 

It was an...interesting day, to say the least.

 

Sam and Bucky told their stories - about their adventures. How Bucky had once scaled a building in order catch and detain a guy. How Sam once fractured a wrist while fighting with someone (and _still_ managed to kick his ass, Sam likes to add). Steve listened, all while smiling, taking in the stories of his two best friends and how Sam had successfully managed to take over the large mantle that is Captain America. By the end of it all, Steve had a few tears in his eyes - so profoundly blissful that they came to visit him.

 

As he thinks back on it, Sam feels his heart sink. All he wanted was to see Sam and Bucky before his end. Sam can cry just thinking about it.

 

Steve, him being an elderly man, went to bed around 10:30. After that, Sam decided to try and sleep as well.

 

Of course, nothing really works out for him. He had fallen asleep, but a brutal nightmare about Riley jolted him awake - leaving him shaking and gasping for breath.

 

He tossed and turned for hours, before giving up, and stealthily made his way into the kitchen, getting himself a glass of water, and going out to the porch. The night is chilly, a little brisk, but warm enough that Sam isn’t shivering without a jacket. The stars twinkle - a lot more visible due to the lack of light pollution, and he smiles at the sight.

 

Sam definitely sees why Steve chose the middle of nowhere. It’s nights like these that makes it all worth it.

 

There’s a click, and then a creaking sound from behind him. Sam turns his head and sees Bucky carefully and cautiously stepping out of the house and onto the porch, quietly closing the door behind him. Sam snorts and turns his head back to looking straight ahead. “Couldn’t sleep either, could you?”

 

“Yeah,” Bucky says, taking the chair next to Sam. “I actually heard you, you know, get up.”

 

“Yeah?” Sam reaches down to grab his glass, taking a sip. “Why didn’t you follow me? I’ve been out here for maybe thirty minutes.”

 

Bucky shrugs. “I thought maybe you were goin’ to come back. Get yourself a glass of water, and go back to bed. But you didn’t, so, being me, I investigated. Sure enough, you’re out here. Sippin’ water and watchin’ the damn stars.”

 

Sam smirks as he lays the glass back down. “You caught me red-handed, man.”

 

Bucky leans back in his chair and places his right ankle on top of his left knee, looking amused. “So, what’s the horrible thing you have on your mind that you just can’t get out of your head?”

 

“Nightmare,” Sam says bluntly. “That’s usually the kicker.”

 

“Ah,” Bucky chews on his lip. “Riley?”

 

Sam just nods in response.

 

Bucky purses his lips and breathes out, making a little whistling noise. “Yeah. Nightmares usually keep me up too.”

 

Sam turns his head to look at him, an eyebrow arched. “So nightmares are the reason you don’t sleep?”

 

“Yeah,” Bucky sighs. “I don’t talk about ‘em, really. I have no wish to.” He presses his lips together in a thin line. “I know you’ve got a lil’ curious mind there, pal. I know you want to know, but I’m sparin’ you the trouble. Perhaps I’ll find someone else to get my feelings out there, like a therapist or some shit. But you don’t need that burden, and believe me,” he blinks, staring straight at Sam. “You don’t want it.”

 

Sam gives a curt nod. “I’ll respect that.”

 

“Good,” Bucky states. He tilts his head to the side, as if analyzing Sam. “You’re thinkin’ about somethin’ else as well, right? Probably the same thing I’m thinkin’ about?”

 

“Steve?”

 

“That’s the one,” Bucky sighs as he leans his head back. “Christ, man. I can’t tell if he’s tryna be overdramatic or what, but…” He sucks in his breath. “He seemed to be really serious about goin’ soon.”

 

“Yeah,” Sam breathes, clenching his jaw. “It sucks, man.”

 

“I know we talked about this in the car, how I felt like my time with him was so damn short.” Bucky huffs and shakes his head. “Now it feels even shorter.”

 

“Well,” Sam takes a deep breath. “At least we both came out here to see him. I’m sure that made his entire life, seeing us again.”

 

“I know.”

 

Sam continues, reaching out a leg to gently nudge Bucky’s. “And he really is so glad to see you doing better and working together with me.”

 

“Yeah,” Bucky sighs again. “You’re right.” He stands up and stretches, and that’s Sam’s cue to move his gaze back to looking straight forward. “You should go to bed, Sam. We both got a long day of drivin’ ahead.”

 

Sam waves him off. “Yeah, I’ll go back to sleep in a minute. I like it out here.”

 

He doesn’t mean it, of course - he’s not going back to the room.

 

And of course, Bucky catches on.

 

Bucky sighs and shakes his head. “Sam, come on. You can’t stay out here forever.”

 

“There’s no T.V. in the room, and I’m _not_ pumping one out in Steve’s guest bedroom.” Sam states dryly, still looking up at the sky. “This will have to do.”

 

Bucky lets out a snort as he shrugs. “So I’ll blow you. How’s that sound?”

 

Sam’s head turns so fast, he swears he feels a little whiplash. “Wha- _How_ on earth do you just say that so fucking _casually?”_

 

Bucky shrugs again. “Because I am bein’ casual.”

 

“Incredible,” Sam says.

 

“Up to you,” Bucky reminds him. “Offer’s on the table. I can do it while you’re sittin’ in that chair. You can stare at the stars for all I care. Then afterwards, you can jerk me off, we call it a night, and we sleep ‘till mornin’.”

 

“Yeah, that’s-” Sam sucks in his breath. He already feels himself getting hard. “Yeah, fuck, alright. C’mere.”

 

Bucky walks over and kneels in front of Sam, both hands finding their place on Sam’s thighs and slightly spreading them. His hands travel upwards and underneath Sam’s shirt, and Sam’s breath hitches as the metal arm gently brushes over the bruise.

 

“Sorry,” Bucky breaths, lifting up Sam’s shirt to take a look. “Forgot that was there.”

 

“It’s all fine,” Sam replies, trying to keep his voice steady as well as quiet. Steve may be an old man, but his hearing might still be sharp from the serum.

 

“You’ve got such a nice body,” Bucky says with a smirk. He leans forward presses a kiss right above Sam’s belly button, as the other hand that isn’t holding the shirt up (the flesh one) snakes back down to the inners of Sam’s right thigh.

 

Sam inhales sharply. “Thank you. You too.”

 

Bucky trails his lips downward. “You sure you want this?”

 

“Fuck, Bucky. Just- yes.” Sam should feel embarrassed about how quickly he got hard, but right now - it doesn’t really matter.

 

Bucky’s quick to the punch, pulling down Sam’s pants and boxers is one smooth motion. The slightly chilled air feels like heaven against Sam, and he fails to suppress a tiny moan. Bucky’s eyes are blown wide, the blue barely visible against the dark holes of his pupils. Sam watches him stare and wet his lips, before using his right hand to grab the shaft - nearing the head.

 

Bucky licks his cock from base to tip, and Sam bites into his fist and moves his gaze upwards to the sky. Then he feels Bucky’s lips enclosing around him, and fuck - if that isn’t the most heavenly thing he’s ever felt. Sam tries to maintain his stare at the sky, but it’s hard when you see the top of Bucky’s head appearing and reappearing out of the bottom of his frame of sight.

 

And it’s surprising how well Bucky’s doing, considering Sam’s one hundred percent sure that Bucky hasn’t done this since the 40’s.

 

Then Bucky places a hand on either side of his thigh, takes a deep breath, then pushes his mouth all the way down until the tip of Sam’s dick reaches the back of his throat.

 

Sam doesn’t even bother suppressing the noises he makes with that, and one hand flies into Bucky’s hair. He tries to remove it but it latches in with some tangles and accidentally pulls, and a low growl rumbles in his throat against Sam’s cock.

 

“Fuck, Bucky. Jesus Christ.” Sam gasps as Bucky pops off and continues to lick around the tip.

 

“I liked that, you know,” Bucky murmurs against his cock. “You pullin’ my hair like that.”

 

“Christ,” Sam hisses. “You’re incredible.”

 

“Mmm,” Bucky hums, and sucks on his head, his other moving from his thigh to the shaft and stroking along in rhythm.

 

This is single handedly, without question, no contest, the _best_ blowjob he’s ever had in his entire life.

 

And with the way Bucky is going, there’s no way he’s going to last.

 

“Bucky-” his breath hitches. “Buck, I’m not gonna- fuck- last much longer.”

 

Bucky only hums and picks up his pace, licking him all over. Then he stares up at Sam, eyes blown wide, and filled with hunger.

 

And when those eyes comes in contact with Sam’s, it’s when he loses it. He cries out Bucky’s name, along with a string of curses, as he comes down Bucky’s throat, who stops moving and lets it happen.  He pops off with a gasp and smiles, wiping his mouth with his hand. Sam’s leaning back in the chair, head tilted up, breathing like his life depends on it - because _holy fuck._

 

Then Bucky stands up, and Sam’s gaze falls upon the tented pants in front of him, and he wastes no time in pulling up his own, standing up, and reaching into Bucky’s pajamas to enclose his hand around him. With a sigh of relief, Bucky’s head falls onto Sam’s shoulder as he jerks him off. Bucky is scorching in his hand, and his breath is hot against Sam’s neck as his breathing becomes more shallow. Sam’s unoccupied hand is gripping at the back of Bucky’s hair, unintentionally pulling him closer.

 

Bucky’s moans become louder and more urgent in his ear, and Sam switches up his pace, and then Bucky’s coming with a gasp onto Sam’s clothes. Sam continues to pump him through his climax until Bucky lifts his head off of his shoulder and presses his forehead to Sam’s, breathing deeply. He stares into Sam’s eyes, and Sam returns the energy in his own gaze.

 

There’s a moment, Sam thinks, where Bucky is going to kiss him - with his lips just inches away and breath just a mere ghost on his.

 

But then Bucky pulls back and rubs the back of his neck. “Wow, Christ.”

 

“Yeah,” Sam breathes. “Wow.”

 

“I’m, uh,” he gestures to Sam’s stained pajamas. “Sorry about that.”

 

“It’s fine,” Sam says, waving a hand in dismissal. “I’ve got other clothes.”

 

“Yeah,” Bucky says, and runs a hand through his hair. “I’m gonna - uh, try and sleep now.”

 

Sam nods. “Yeah me...me too.” He grabs the glass of water from the deck and heads inside. Bucky holds the door for him and he goes through, with Bucky following him and making sure the door shuts without any noise. Sam places the glass in the sink and heads up the stairs, making his way to the room he’s staying in.

 

“Hey, Sam?” Bucky’s voice is soft. Sam turns around.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Thanks,” Bucky smiles softly.

 

Sam returns the smile. “No problem. Thank you as well.”

 

“Sure,” Bucky breathes, and then he enters his room, closing the door behind him.

 

Sam opens the door to his room and shuts the door. He strips off his pajamas (leaving his boxers on), tosses them into the depths of his bag, and gets into the bed.

 

He falls asleep within ten minutes.

 

* * *

 

There’s a bit of tension the next morning - Sam can feel it, and he’s about fifty percent sure that Bucky feels it too. Maybe Steve notices, maybe he doesn't, but at breakfast there’s a lot of silence. It’s alright, Sam thinks. Maybe it’s just the feeling of Steve’s words yesterday, hanging above their heads.

 

As Bucky tosses their things into the trunk of the car, Sam wraps his arms tightly around Steve (though not enough to hurt him). “Thank you,” he says. “For telling us to come see you. I’m sorry we never did this earlier.”

 

Steve pulls back and smiles, his eyes glistening with just a hint of tears. “I knew you both were busy. It’s alright.” He pats Sam’s shoulder. His gaze falls onto Bucky, closing the trunk. “He’s great, isn’t he?”

 

Sam follows Steve’s eyes. Bucky sees them both and flashes a smile as he walks towards them. “Yeah,” Sam says, returning the smile. “He’s amazing.”

 

“Buck,” Steve holds his arms out as Bucky encloses around him.

 

“Punk,” Bucky whispers. “Gonna miss you. For real.”

 

“I’ll miss you too,” Steve tells him. “I’m glad you’ve got another friend.”

 

“Yeah, he’s a real sweetheart.” Bucky smirks and winks at Sam as he pulls back. Sam’s heart skips a beat - like it always does. “No worries, Steve. I’ll take great care of him.”

 

Sam narrows his eyes. “Excuse me?”

 

Bucky grins. “You heard me.”

 

Steve chuckles, shaking his head. “God, you both never rest, do you?”

 

“Nope,” Sam says, the same time as Bucky says “nah.” Steve rolls his eyes and sits back in a chair.  

 

“You boys have a safe trip back, you hear me?” Steve looks between them. “Let me know when you stop at a motel for the night.”

 

“Will do,” Sam pats his shoulder. “I’ll drive, Buck.”

 

“Sure,” Bucky tosses him the keys. “Bye, Steve.”

 

Steve nods, and as the two pull out of the driveway, they see Steve waving at them, until he’s no longer visible.

 

* * *

 

The gas station is empty when Bucky pulls into it. Sam mentions how he’ll get the gas and Bucky nods. Sam watches as Bucky leaves the car and sits on the hood. He’s got a bomber jacket on, and his hands are submerged in the pockets.

 

They’ve been driving for at least seventeen hours, only stopping three times for food and bathroom breaks.

 

Sam keeps an eye on Bucky as he inserts the nozzle into the tank. There’s a slight breeze, causing Bucky’s hair to move with it. Against the faint light of the upcoming sunset, the picture is rather beautiful, and Sam feels his heart rate speed up the longer he looks at him.

 

He doesn’t know what’s going on between him and Bucky. At first, it could have been classified as bros helping out bros (as Sam likes to put it). But last night, Sam recalls, felt strangely more... _intimate._ The blowjob was, of course, incredible, but what Sam really thinks about is the way Bucky’s head was on on his shoulder as he got him off. He recalls the way Bucky’s lips felt on his neck, pressing open mouth kisses.

 

Sam’s hand automatically finds his neck, feeling the spot where Bucky was breathing. His mouth is no longer there, obviously, but he feels a scorching heat where it once was.

 

And then Bucky had pressed their foreheads together, and stared into Sam’s eyes. It was everything he never knew he needed.

 

His tank fills up and he pays, returning the nozzle back onto the station. But, instead of telling Bucky to get into the car, he walks over and leans on the car, next to him.

 

“I like sunsets,” Bucky says, as if expecting Sam to be there. “Like the way they look. Always.”

 

“Me too,” Sam replies.

 

“I used to watch ‘em with Steve.”

 

Sam nods, biting his lip and shifting a bit closer to him.

 

“I just-” Bucky lowers his head. “I don’t want to think that...that will be the last time I ever see Steve in person. You know? I don’t like thinking that.”

 

“I don’t like thinking it either,” Sam lifts a hand and puts it on Bucky’s shoulder, squeezing it tightly. “But he seemed to be happy...to see us...and thought it was enough.”

 

“But is it ever really _enough?”_ Bucky asks, turning to look at Sam - his eyes glistening with tears.  “I don’t think so.” He gets off the hood of the car and walks forward, kicking a rock as hard as he can.

 

“Bucky,” Sam says softly, staying put. “It’s okay.”

 

“Yeah,” Bucky says, trying to steady his breathing. “Yeah. It is, I know. I just- fuck, Sam, it’s hard.”

 

“Yeah, it’s hard.” Sam states, sitting down on the car now. “But it’s life. And life is difficult.”

 

“Damn right, life is difficult.” Bucky spats, shaking his head. He walks back towards the car, until he’s standing in front of Sam. “It ain’t fair, either.”

 

Sam nods. “It’s never gonna be fair.”

 

Bucky sucks in his breath, rubbing his mouth as he does so. He doesn’t speak for a few minutes, before letting out a deep breath. He walks closer to Sam, just enough so that Sam’s knees are touching him - and as if it were an impulse, his legs open, allowing Bucky to get even closer. Bucky’s eyes are on his, and his hand reaches up to cup Sam’s cheek.

 

“What are you doing?” Sam asks - but it’s soft, not demanding.

 

Bucky doesn’t answer. Instead his gaze drops to Sam’s lips and his other hand leans against the car next to Sam’s thigh as he closes the gap between them. Bucky’s lips are soft and pliant against Sam’s - and it’s all he ever wanted. Sam’s hands find solace on Bucky’s ribs, just beneath his armpits. Bucky’s right thumb is caressing the curvature of Sam’s cheekbone as he slips his tongue in between Sam’s lips.

 

Sam’s heart is beating faster than it ever has been. They’re making out - at an empty gas station - just at about sunset.

 

Then Bucky pulls away to take a breath, dropping his right hand to the other side of Sam’s thigh. “Sorry just - wanted to do that last night.”

 

“It’s okay, just shut up.” Sam says, grabbing the lapels of his jacket and yanking him in for another kiss. This one is more messy, more frantic, and less slow and sweet. He’s gripping for dear life at his lapels, and Bucky’s small noises just send signals directly south. He wants more.

 

Bucky inches even closer as Sam wraps his legs around him, and Bucky slowly moves one hand up Sam’s back and rests it there as he licks into Sam’s mouth, delivering the same amount of energy that Sam has.

 

Sam pulls away, breathing hard and practically panting. “Let’s find a motel.”

 

“Yeah,” Bucky says, nodding. “Fuck - yeah, let’s find one.”

 

Bucky gets into the driver’s seat, and Sam into the passenger’s, and he starts the car and _takes off._

 

* * *

 

There’s a motel about five miles down. At this point, it doesn’t matter how seedy it looks, because Bucky is pulling Sam with him, a strong hand on his wrist, duffle bags slung around his shoulder, and he practically throws his card at the receptionist asking for a room. The receptionist, a middle-aged woman who definitely has seen enough shit to recognize desperation, hands them a key with a blank stare and Bucky bolts, dragging Sam with him.

 

Bucky unlocks the door, and pushes Sam inside. As soon as the door closes behind him, Sam presses him against it, lips on his almost immediately. Bucky throws the bags to the side and kisses him back. It’s hot, it’s dirty, and Sam _loves_ it. And suddenly, there’s too many clothes on, and Sam’s in a desperate fit to take off Bucky’s jacket and toss it to the floor.

 

Somehow they made it on the bed, shirts off, with Sam’s back pressed against the comforter and Bucky hovering over him, trailing his lips down Sam’s chest with hunger, eager to explore everywhere. Sam’s breathing hitches as Bucky swipes his tongue at a nipple, and continues downwards.

 

“Christ, Sweetheart,” Bucky drawls. “You’re perfect.”

 

Sam leans his head back and arches his hips when Bucky nudges at the bulge in his jeans. “Bucky.”

 

“I got you.” Bucky says, and he unbuttons Sam’s jeans, and swiftly pulls them and his underwear down, tossing them to the floor. He travels back upwards to press a bruising kiss to Sam’s lips, which Sam accepts with an eager moan.

 

“I don’t-” Sam says between kisses. “Have anything, and I doubt you do either.”

 

“You’re right,” Bucky states, and moves his lips to suck a bruise into Sam’s neck. “I didn’t really think this through.”

 

“No need,” Sam flips them over and trails kisses downwards. “It’s my turn, anyway.”

 

Bucky moans, a deep and low noise coming from the depths of his throat. Sam takes Bucky’s pants and boxers off and gets to work, kissing up the shaft and taking in the pleasant noises that Bucky’s giving off.

 

Sam’s takes his time, teasing Bucky with his tongue all around his cock, lightly sucking at the tip and swirling his tongue around it. His hands travel to Bucky’s v-line, and he traces the curvature, memorizing it and making sure he knows every inch of it. Then he takes one hand and lightly strokes Bucky’s perineum.

 

And the noise that Bucky makes with that - well, there’s nothing more heavenly.

 

Sam’s other hand strokes Bucky in rhythm with his mouth.

 

“Sam, baby, holy _shit.”_

 

Sam keeps going, the words only adding flame to the fire. He picks up his pace.

 

“Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck._ ” Bucky shouts - and then he’s over the edge, coming down Sam’s throat. He’s panting as Sam releases his cock and wipes his mouth, and then he’s sitting up, grabbing Sam by the back of his head and dragging him in for a heated kiss. His hand drifts down to grasp Sam’s cock and he moves his hand at a fast pace.

 

Sam growls into Bucky’s mouth. He knows he’s not lasting long, not after Bucky’s reaction to Sam sucking him off.

 

“Go on, Sweetheart,” Bucky mutters against his lips and trailing kisses to the patch of skin right below his ear. “Let go, I’ve got you.”

 

“Oh, fuck, baby.” Sam cries out as he comes, and Bucky keeps moving his hand, milking every last drop, sucking bruising kisses into his neck like it’s the only thing keeping him going.

 

Sam is panting like absolutely crazy, and Bucky comes up from his neck and rests his forehead against Sam.

 

“Well,” Bucky says. “That was fucking great.”

 

“I need a shower,” is all Sam can muster. “You wanna join?”

 

“Christ, baby.” Bucky moans. “You bet.”

 

Sam gets up, smirking, and heads into the bathroom, Bucky following close behind.

 

* * *

 

By the time Sam’s alarm goes off the next morning, Bucky is already awake, writing in a book. Sam arches an eyebrow as he blinks himself awake and smirks. “Defacing the Scripture again, are we?” He mumbles sleepily.

 

Bucky glances over at him and smiles. “Maybe. Good mornin’, Sleepin’ Beauty. You get enough rest for our ride back home?”

 

Sam sits up and stretches. “Yes I did, all thanks to you.” He checks his phone and groans. “Aw, fuck, we forgot to tell Steve we made it to a motel.”

 

“Tell him we were busy.”

 

Sam glares at him - although it is playful. “I’ll just tell him we were tired after a long day of driving and just passed out. Thank the fucking Lord he can text.” He shoots Steve a quick apology text and puts his phone down. Then he’s taking the Bible out of Bucky’s hand and pressing a kiss to his lips, placing the Bible back down on the nightstand. Bucky’s hand finds the back of his neck as he pulls him in closer, wanting more to taste.

 

“Mmm,” Bucky says, pulling away. “As much as I love this, we should get back on the road. I kind of don’t wanna spend a minute longer in this motel.”

 

Sam chuckles, nodding. “Fair point.” He moves back towards his side of the bed and gets off it. “I’m taking the bathroom.”

 

“Ugh, you always take so long,” Bucky complains, smiling.

 

Sam playfully flips him off, but it only makes Bucky grin wider.

 

In the bathroom, Sam studies his reflection in the mirror. It’s been one hell of a damn trip, Sam thinks, but it’s been satisfying, to say the least.

 

He doesn’t take long in the bathroom - as there is no need to stare at himself and yell at his mind to stop thinking about his friend. He changes with ease and when he walks out, Bucky’s already dressed and ready to go. Sam arches an eyebrow and points behind him. “You don’t need to go?”

 

“Nah,” Bucky shakes his head. “I went before you woke up. Come on, now,” he grabs the duffle bags and opens the motel door, and Sam follows him.

 

“I’m driving,” Sam states, and Bucky tosses him the key.

 

They get in the car and Sam turns it on, handing Bucky the cord for his phone. “Passenger gets aux, of course.”

 

“Of course,” Bucky smiles, and puts on an Elton John song.

 

* * *

 

“Hey Sam?” Bucky says after two hours.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Were we ever just helpin’ each other out?”

 

Sam presses his lips together as he shakes his head. “I definitely wasn’t just doing it for that. Maybe I was lying to myself, but frankly, I’ve been wanting you for a long time.”

 

Bucky smiles. “Good. Me too.”

 

There’s a brief silence and a shared smile between them, before Bucky speaks up again.

 

“And we’re still not telling Steve.”

 

“Well,” Sam looks at him and smirks. “At least not yet. He doesn’t need to know that he was sort of involved with us getting together.”

 

“Right,” Bucky says, and he reaches his hand out, palm facing up. Sam smiles and switches his grip on the wheel and slides his fingers in between Bucky’s metal ones.

 

“Maybe I am a romantic,” Bucky comments.

 

Sam just laughs in response, and finds himself gripping Bucky’s metal hand a little tighter.

 

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE LEAVE KUDOS AND COMMENTS! I worked incredibly hard for this fic and honestly, I thrive off of them so much.
> 
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> 
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